


The Little Death

by Reis_Asher



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Episode: s02e07 Yakimono, Feral Will Graham, Gift Fic, Gun Kink, Gunplay, M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25707667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: When Will threatens Hannibal in his kitchen with a gun, things take a different turn...
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 119





	The Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hedonistconstant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedonistconstant/gifts).



> For Granty. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Will stood in the shadows of Hannibal's kitchen, gun pointed at Hannibal Lecter with the intent to kill. Or so he'd thought. Now he was here, he wasn't sure of anything. One look at Hannibal's face was enough to cast his entire reality into doubt. Was this man really the Chesapeake Ripper? Will tried to focus. He forced himself to think about coughing up Abigail's ear. That was enough to bring his rage flooding back and strengthen his resolve. 

"You wanted me to embrace my nature, Doctor. I'm just following the urges I kept down for so long, cultivating them as the inspirations they are." There was almost a twinkle in Hannibal's eyes as Will said it, and he wondered if Hannibal was aroused by this side of him. Wild. Unhinged. Feral.

"You never answered my question," Hannibal continued. "How would killing me make you feel?"

"Righteous," Will hissed. Hannibal flinched, and the thrill of that shot straight to Will's groin. Hannibal had taken everything from him, and yet he was still mortal, still frightened when Will pointed a gun at him. Finally the tables were turned and it was Hannibal's time to be afraid. He was handsome like this, graceful and dignified in a way no other human being had ever faced death, but the subtleties of his demeanor were like screams to Will, who knew him so well by now.

Hannibal's voice didn't betray his fear, but it did reveal his curiosity. "Don't you want to know how this ends?"

Will hated looking at Hannibal's face. Even now, something about the angles of his cheekbones and the calmness of his voice drew Will's attention like a brightly colored fishing lure. He had to end this. He took a step forward, disengaging the safety on his gun. Hannibal closed his eyes, leaning against the fridge door, and Will was overcome. All he could do was stare, erection tenting in his pants, and wonder if this was how Hannibal felt when he took a human life. Powerful. Aroused. Alive.

Will pulled the gun away, put the safety back on, and swiftly strode towards the exit. He wasn't going to shoot. He couldn't. Threatening Hannibal felt incredible, but he hated that it did. He wasn't like Hannibal. If he killed him here, like this, it was as good as becoming him.

"Aren't you curious, Will?" Will froze in the doorway, Hannibal's voice rooting him to the spot.

"Curious about what?" Will squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't going to turn around. He wasn't going to look at Hannibal.

"Curious at why you're aroused by the thought of putting a bullet in me?" A hint of amusement had crept into his voice, as if Hannibal was telling a joke that only he truly understood.

Will swallowed. How had Hannibal noticed his desire in the low light? It didn't matter. He knew, and now Will was caught in a trap. "Spontaneous erections are a physiological response to fear. You should know that, Dr. Lecter."

"Erections are also a response to attraction. Are you attracted to me, Will? Or just the thought of killing me?"

Will turned around. The sly smile on Hannibal's face was so alluring that he stepped forward without thinking.

"Maybe it's both," Will growled. He still had the gun in hand when he pressed Hannibal back into the fridge door. It slammed shut, and he raised his weapon, brushing it against Hannibal's face, across his neck, the collar of his shirt, his suit jacket, down to his groin, where his erection stood out in his nicely tailored pants. Will pressed the barrel of the gun against the shape of him, rubbing the gun against his cock through the thick fabric. Hannibal's eyes lidded, and he threw his head back, exposing his throat.

Will could kill him right now. He was the predator and Hannibal was the prey, almost begging for Will to pull the trigger. Hannibal bucked his hips against the gun and Will smiled, all teeth as he considered his next move. He disengaged the safety, and Hannibal paused, obviously aware that nudging Will's hand could end in tragedy.

"Are you going to do something with that weapon, or simply wave it around?" Hannibal's tone was flippant, and Will couldn't help but be incensed by his audacity. Hannibal was enjoying every moment of this, earnest in his belief that Will would never shoot him on purpose.

"I've got the gun, Dr. Lecter. I suggest you keep quiet," Will growled. He removed one hand from the trigger, using it to cup Hannibal's balls. He traced the length of his shaft, feeling how thick and hard he was.

"Or what?" Hannibal goaded. "Are you going to fuck me with it, Will?" He made eye contact with Will as he said it, and Will felt the breath leave his lungs, the wind knocked out of his sails as he imagined pressing the loaded gun into Hannibal's hole. One false move would kill Hannibal, and end all this. Or they'd come together, driven over the edge by shared madness, dancing on a knife edge between life and death.

Will had never been this hard in his entire life, not even that time when he'd found his dad's stash of pornographic magazines. He didn't even know it was possible to be so aroused that his entire body ached for it. He wasn't sure Hannibal would even have to touch him. He might come in his underwear.

Will cleared his throat, which was suddenly filled with cobwebs. "Take your pants off. Get up on the counter and spread your legs." Hannibal obeyed, reaching for his belt. Will kept the gun trained on him the entire time, waiting for Hannibal to turn the tables and grab a kitchen knife. Instead, Hannibal almost seemed to make a game out of it, stripping like he was a pole dancer at some cheap strip joint. His silk boxers outlined the shape of his dick, the moonlight shining off the fabric. Will swallowed, his mouth dry with pure animalistic need he didn't understand. Hannibal wriggled out of the boxers, letting them pool on the floor at his feet.

Will licked his lips as he looked up to gaze at Hannibal's erection. He was thick, long, and uncut, several prominent veins standing out along his length, and heavy balls hanging low. A bead of sweat trickled down Will's face, and he felt like he had encephalitis again, his body and brain on fire for this man. Hannibal lifted himself onto the counter. 

"There's a jar of ghee in the fridge door," Hannibal instructed. "While you might enjoy the pain of inserting the gun dry, I assure you it'll reach a greater depth with lubrication."

Will stepped back, the gun shaking in his hand as he opened the fridge door. Hannibal wrapped his hand around his cock, slowly stroking it as Will pulled the jar from the impeccably organized shelf inside the door. He set the gun down on the edge of the counter and unscrewed the lid, taking a sniff. It smelled kind of buttery. Too pleasant for what he was about to do.

Hannibal raised his legs, exposing his hole. He was shaved, almost all traces of hair gone, and Will idly wondered how long he took on his excessive grooming rituals. He was almost embarrassed about the jungle down there when it came to his own body, but recalled that Hannibal wasn't going to see that. The only thing going into Hannibal's ass was his fingers and the gun.

Hannibal smelled good—musky, but clean, like pine needles and sweet vanilla mixed with the natural scent of a man. Will scooped up some of the ghee on his fingers, too aroused to be nervous. He'd never done anything like this before—nothing that wasn't missionary with a woman—and now he wondered what else about himself Hannibal was bringing to the surface. He gently probed Hannibal's puckered hole, feeling the resistance and pushing past it. 

Hannibal gasped, but Will didn't stop to smell the roses. He was losing the rage that had driven him to this point, and he once again had to remember why he'd come here before this encounter had any risk of becoming tender. He wasn't making love to Hannibal. He was punishing him. Making him feel real fear. Fucking him with a gun that might very well kill him, the way Will's hands were trembling. He inserted a second finger, fucking Hannibal's hole until he was sure he was slick enough. He pulled out, reaching for the gun. His fingers were greasy, now, in addition to shaky.

In a moment of guilt and terror, he engaged the safety. Hannibal reached forward and grabbed both his hands. Will was sure he was going to relinquish the gun, but Hannibal simply shook his head and forced Will's fingers to disengage the safety mechanism again.

"You wanted to punish me, Will, so punish me. According to you, I murdered Abigail and forced you to swallow her ear. You also believe me to be responsible for many more murders. You think I'm a serial killer, so act accordingly." 

Will wanted to say that he didn't tend to take in serial killers by shoving a gun up their ass, but that seemed redundant. None of this was how it should have gone down. This wasn't justice, or righteousness. This was lust in its purest form, the desire to fuck Hannibal mingling with the desire to kill him.

Will spread some of the ghee on the gun, coating the barrel. His erection had floundered, but it quickened again as he pressed the gun to Hannibal's ass, slowly inserting it. Hannibal's hole seemed to swallow it, the man himself staring at Will with a fire in his eyes that made Will feel like the center of the universe. Hannibal had granted him absolute power over life and death, the power of a god. Hannibal's power.

They were the same, and Will hated him for it, even as he loved him. He focused on his hate as he pushed the gun all the way in, pulling back on it and thrusting it in again. His finger was still on the trigger, and one slip, a little too much pressure, and he'd be sprayed with Hannibal's blood as he destroyed him from the inside.

His cock was leaking and he ached to touch himself, but he didn't dare take one of his hands off the gun. Hannibal's eyes were lidded, the flush on his cheeks erotic and powerful as he bore down on the gun, fucking it as it fucked him.

"Touch yourself, Will," Hannibal commanded.

"If I take one of my hands off the gun, I won't be able to keep steady."

"Isn't that what you want? Let me see how much you enjoy it." Hannibal opened his eyes and pried the gun from Will's grip. He kept it inside him while Will unbuckled his belt. He shoved his jeans and underwear down to his knees, gripping his erection with his left hand while taking the gun back from Hannibal's grip with his right. He slowly jerked himself off, aware of Hannibal's penetrating gaze on him, watching him take delight and pleasure from this. Hannibal took himself in hand more eagerly, now, getting off on Will getting off on having a gun stuffed up Hannibal's ass—a gun that could go off with the slightest twitch.

"When I come, I won't be able to control myself," Will warned, speeding up his motions with the gun. If he squeezed the trigger involuntarily, Hannibal would die, and he realized he was afraid of that notion more than anything. "I'm close."

"If the last thing I see on Earth is the beauty of your orgasm, I will consider it a good death," Hannibal replied.

Will felt the wave of orgasm crash into him and he came, his body convulsing as he came hard. He forced his hand to stay still even as pleasure coursed through him and his faculties left him. A string of semen hit Hannibal's thigh and the man looked downright exultant, a look of pure bliss etched onto his perfect face as he no doubt felt the kiss of danger and desire brush against him.

Will gasped for breath, immediately placing his other shaking hand on the gun to steady himself. Tears brimmed in his eyes, blurring his vision, and he blinked them away.

With one last thrust of the gun, Hannibal came, warm semen splashing Will's face like blood. He was taken back to the moment when he'd killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs, and he understood why they called orgasm 'the little death'. Hannibal let out a sharp cry, and Will knew he was convulsing against the gun, squeezing it with his hole.

Will wished the gun was his dick, and broke into unhinged, desperate laughter. A tear finally broke loose and trickled down his face, and he pulled the gun out much too fast. It dragged against Hannibal's hole. Judging from the hiss Hannibal gave, it hurt, but Will was glad to engage the safety with trembling fingers and put the gun down on the counter.

"Oh God." Will felt like he'd thrown up an ear again, revulsion and terror gripping him as he realized what he'd just done. He'd had sex with Hannibal and loved every moment. He'd done something stupid and dangerous, put Hannibal's life on the line for a thrill. He might have killed the man. He hyperventilated, grabbing onto Hannibal's thighs for support as his own knees buckled and threatened to give way.

Hannibal reached down and cupped Will's cheeks, thumbing his tear away. "It's all right," Hannibal soothed. "It's perfectly normal to have an intense reaction after such an experience. It's all right. You're all right. Will. Stay with me."

Will hung onto Hannibal's steady voice, using it to ground himself. As he always had, each and every time Hannibal had dragged him down into the darkness. He needed Hannibal, even if he was the cause of Will's pain in the first place.

Will realized he wasn't the predator. He was and had always been in the presence of a much higher being, a god among men, an arbiter of death and destruction, giver of love and art. Hannibal had granted him temporary power over him, but only because he'd wanted to. Will fell to his knees, though he wasn't sure if it was weakness or in worship. Hannibal wigged off the kitchen counter and onto his feet, towering over Will as he sobbed at Hannibal's feet.

"Stand up, Will."

Will complied, the tears drying on his cheeks almost at once. Hannibal stooped to pull up Will's underwear and jeans, buttoning him up and tightening his belt. He took the gun from the countertop and pressed it into Will's hand, closing his fingers around it.

"Do you still want to shoot me?" Hannibal asked.

Will shook his head. "No. No. I never did," he whispered.

"Go home," Hannibal instructed. "Get some rest, Will. You've been through a profoundly emotional experience." He herded Will to the front door, and Will stepped through it, dumbfounded. Shouldn't they talk about what they'd just done? Wasn't this the prelude to something else, rather than a quick encounter?

Hannibal closed the front door behind him, and Will stood outside, shaking his head. He was satisfied down to his bones, but there was something else, too, a yawning emptiness where all his hate had nested. It was as if Hannibal had cut it out of him surgically, leaving only a hollow void where it once had lived. The seeds of something else had been planted there, but he couldn't know yet what they might blossom into.

If it came from Hannibal, it had to be poisonous, and yet Will quivered with anticipation wondering what Hannibal had in store for him next.


End file.
